Knit in Comfort (5 page)

“Signs.” Vera nodded somberly, another crumb clinging to the corner of her mouth. “A powerful array, all pointing here.”

“Really.” Ella didn't stop her critical study of Elizabeth. “So…what, you'll stay until dead grannie tells you to go home?”

A snort of laughter from Lolly, abruptly snuffed, otherwise awkward silence during which Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, and Megan started to panic.

“Ignore her, she thinks she's being funny.” Sally gave Ella an exasperated look, which on her sweet face barely registered, then jumped to help Megan distribute mugs of coffee. “It's real nice to have you here, Elizabeth. If you need anything, a tour or…well, anything, you let me know. Foster, my fiancé, owns the hardware store, so he can help if you need anything too.”

“I thought his
hardware
was spoken for.”

“Ella…” Sally smacked her friend on the shoulder, blushing sunburn red. “You are terrible.”

“Good morn—” Deena looked around at the crowd in startled horror. “Whoa. What's going on?”

“Hi baby.” Megan blew a frazzled kiss to her middle daughter. “We'll get some more chairs.”

“I'll eat under the table.”

“No you won't, Jeffrey. Help me, would you, Lolly?” Megan started toward the family room, counting down to the inevitable.
Three…two…one.

“
Fine.
” Lolly said it in three syllables, fi-ee-
nuh
, and rolled her eyes.

“I'll help.” Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

“No, Lolly should—”

“I don't mind.”

Megan gave in with a sigh. She wasn't up to explaining how important it was that her daughter help. Not this morning. A we'll-talk-about-this-later stare at Lolly would have to do. “All right. Thank you.”

She led the way, aware of Elizabeth's sweet floral scent behind her and how it made their family room seem dingy and stale. She opened a window, embarrassed by the smell, and headed for the folding chairs they kept stacked in the closet behind the stored winter coats.

“I
love
your house, Megan.”

Megan handed her a chair, not sure what that was about. The house was a house, not much charm or character. “I'm glad, thank you.”

“It has so much charm and character.”

“Really?” She handed over another chair. “It's just a house. An ordinary one at that.”

“I know, but it has…warmth. And people in it who love each other.”

Megan closed the door to the closet, flushed from burrowing through sleeves and hoods and zippers to get to the chairs. What was she talking about? “We're family.”

“Yes, and friends gathering for coffee to meet the newcomer. It's just so…perfect.”

Perfect?
What kind of life had this child-woman had if Stanley and Megan's house counted as perfect? “Well, thank you. That's very sweet.”

“I don't know if I came here for a reason or not. But if I did, I think I'm figuring out what that reason is.”

For a moment Megan considered ignoring her obvious cue and moving back into the kitchen, but she couldn't bring herself to be that rude. “What?”

“To show me what my life has been missing. I think I'm going to find it here.”

A sharp laugh threatened to burst out of Megan. She gave in to the cliché and tried to make it sound like a cough.

“Well. That's very nice.” She shut the closet door, bewildered. Maybe she should have known that someone from New York wanting to move into a garage apartment in a town like Comfort would be a little off. Stanley would say told-you-so, and then he'd imitate his grandmother's deep old-lady voice
and tell Megan she'd pooped in her own bait bucket, which would make Megan laugh in spite of herself.

Maybe Megan needed more time than she expected to adjust to the newcomer, more time to adjust to having yet another body and mouth around, this one not part of her family or Stanley's.

Or maybe Megan would discover there were limits even to what she could cope with.

B
anana-cream pie!” Elizabeth couldn't stop beaming. Another great meal. Pork and beef meat loaf. Potatoes mashed with butter and milk. Green beans from the garden cooked until tender and served with lemon and salt. Tossed salad with bottled Italian dressing. Now pie, and she was pretty sure she saw an empty box of Jell-O pudding—a childhood favorite—though Megan had made her own crust. “I haven't eaten this well in way too long.”

Lolly exchanged a what-is-
her
-problem look with her sister. “It's just normal food.”

“It's Comfort food!” Elizabeth giggled at her own joke and got a chuckle from Vera.

“I thought you were married to a chef.” Jeffrey, fast becoming Elizabeth's favorite, wrinkled his slightly upturned nose in comical curiosity. He was brown haired and brown eyed, as
was his sister Deena, a contrast to strawberry-blond Lolly, who would probably end up auburn like Megan. “Can't he make meat loaf?”

“Well yes. But he'd make bison meatloaf with crimini mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes, and mash his potatoes with fennel, garlic and imported goat-milk Parmesan.”

“Mercy.” Vera looked appalled. She had a great face: high forehead under old-lady white curls, sunken eyes and a ball at the end of her nose. Twin grooves extended outward from nostril to lip, two more from lip to chin, like the stacked roofs of Japanese temples. “What a fuss over meat and potatoes.”

“I know! Then for salad he'd have organic
mâche
with—”

“Organic mash?”

Elizabeth laughed, then noticed no one else did and stopped abruptly. “
Mâche
. It's a kind of lettuce, also called lamb's tongue.”

“Ewwww!”

“More milk, Jeffrey?”

“Yes, please, Mom, thank you, Mom.”

Elizabeth got up to get herself more water while Meg poured milk for her son. She missed having wine with dinner, but that was the only criticism. With meals like this she'd have to keep up her running schedule or inflate like a balloon. “Can I get anyone anything?”

Megan looked up as if the question surprised her. “Oh, no. Thank you. We have everything.”

“We're all fine here. Just fine,” said Vera.

“Good. Okay.” Elizabeth went back to the table. Apparently she'd managed to say the wrong thing. Again.

“Hey, Elizabeth.”

Just the sound of Jeffrey's voice made her smile. “Yes, Jeffrey?”

“Do you think if you could fly, that painting your house would be fun?”

Elizabeth grinned and ruffled his short, enviably thick hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a very original mind?”

“Weird, more like it.” Deena looked to her golden sister, who nodded confirmation.

“No kidding.”

“Kids…” Megan spoke absently, cutting pie, as if she'd said the word so many times that K-I-D-S had become a meaningless four-letter assortment. “This piece is yours, Elizabeth.”

“Oh boy.” Elizabeth accepted the plate. “I love banana-cream pie. Can't remember the last one I had.”

“Vera? Pie?”

“No, thank you. I'm trying to remember where I put my waist.”

“What kind of food did you eat before you married the chef guy?” Lolly held out her hand for a plate, obviously used to being next in line.

“We're not married.”

Megan's smooth serving motion faltered. Vera's eyes darted from Elizabeth to her daughter-in-law and back. Lolly and Deena exchanged wide-eyed looks of fascination.

Uh-oh
. “So, um…I grew up with my mother and Polish grandmother in Milwaukee.”

“That's in Wisconsin, right?”

“No, Deena,
Florida
.” Lolly rolled her eyes.

“Milwaukee, Florida!” Jeffrey burst out laughing. “How about Milwaukee,
France
?”

“No, Milwaukee,
Africa.
” Lolly giggled, losing several years along with the sneer.

“Milwaukee,
Jupiter!
”

“Yes, Deena, Wisconsin. This piece is for you.” Megan transferred a third perfect piece of pie to the center of another white plate.

“Mmm, the pie is fabulous, thank you, Megan.”

“Well. You're welcome.” Compliments seemed to surprise her. Because she never got any or because she didn't think what she'd done deserved them?

“I had Polish friends before they moved away from Comfort, oh, I guess twenty years ago now.” Vera stuck her fork in Lolly's pie and snuck away a bite. “Good sausage.”

“A lot of good sausage. And sauerkraut, and cabbage. That's what my grandma made anyway. My mom was as bad a cook as I am. Overdone meat, watery soups, charred cookies…When I moved to Boston we lived on sandwiches and cheap takeout. That's why this is so good. Plain food done really well.”

“I guess we're plain people.” Vera was looking steadily at Megan now.

Elizabeth sighed. She'd done it again. “I didn't mean—”

“When did you leave home?” Lolly asked.

“Seventeen.”

“Really?” Deena's eyes widened. “You didn't finish high school?”

“I left the day after graduation. I have an August birthday.”

“You must've totally wanted out of there.” Lolly looked wistful.

“My then-boyfriend Alan was leaving town for Boston. I went with him. We lived in a horrid basement in a great neighbor—”

“Another piece anyone? Vera? Deena?”

Elizabeth glanced at Megan in surprise.

“You were living in sin.” Vera spoke quietly. “Around here that's not done.”

Elizabeth let out a blast of laughter, then realized that was probably not the best reaction, though she couldn't tell if Vera was condemning her or explaining Megan's interruption. “Um, wow. Yes. I guess we were. I didn't think about it that way, I'm sorry if I offended anyone.”

“It's okay, Elizabeth. Jeffrey, you look ready for more.” Megan held out a hand toward Jeffrey, who passed his plate.

“Yes please, Mom, thank you, Mom.”

“Fine by me, I wasn't born yesterday.” Vera raided Jeffrey's plate with her thieving fork.

“No, definitely not.” Elizabeth realized how that sounded and flushed. “I'm sure the world is a lot different, though, than when you were young. Not that it was that long ago. I meant that things change so fast.”

“Well yes, they do.”

Elizabeth sighed, worn out by her floundering. If there was a career path for people who had a gift for saying the wrong thing she'd be a billionaire. She finished her pie, listening to the children chatter and laugh, thinking they probably had no idea how special this was. Her childhood meals had been mostly quiet at the dark table in the dark dining room—lonely widowed grandma, lonely single mother exhausted from a day at work and lonely only child Elizabeth. Why hadn't they turned to each other in all that loneliness? They'd been too different. Ultra-conservative, iron-ruling grandma who lived in the past, grown-up ex-hippy mom waiting for rescue from the future and Generation-X daughter, concerned only with her present.

The phone rang. Lolly leaped for it.

“Oh, hey, Grandad.” She sounded disappointed.

Elizabeth glanced at Megan, who froze for half a beat, then calmly—always calmly!—put a sliver of pie on her own plate, rinsed her hands in the sink and waited for the phone, on which Lolly was speaking monosyllabically. “Yes. No. Okay. Yeah, here she is.”

“Hi Dad.” Megan walked to the kitchen doorway and stood with her back to the room.

“That's Megan's daddy.”

Elizabeth nodded to Vera. She got that.

“He's a widower. Aileen died a couple of years after Megan and Stanley got married.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“She was a lovely person.” Vera folded her hands with the quiet superiority of someone enjoying spreading tragic news.

“Megan had a terrible time. She and her mama were very close.”

“Her mom—Aileen—taught her the lace.”

“Yes ma'am.” Vera sighed heavily. “Megan has a gift passed down through generations. It's a terrible shame she doesn't knit it anymore.”

“She stopped? Why? Because her mom died?”

Vera looked uncomfortable, then surprised, then nodded gravely. “Yes. That's why.”

Elizabeth's instinct kicked in. That wasn't why.

“Can I have s'more pie, Grandma?”

“It's not
s'more
pie, it's
banana-cream
pie.”

Deena stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“I think you've had plenty, Deena.”

“
Again?
” Megan took another step out of the kitchen. Elizabeth smiled sympathetically at chubby Deena, wishing she could hear more of Megan's conversation.

“Hey, Elizabeth.” Jeffrey put his fork down. “Do you know what gas makes Neptune look blue?”

“Swamp gas?” suggested Lolly not-helpfully.

“
Poo
gas?” Deena giggled like mad and earned a scowl from Vera.

Jeffrey ignored his sisters. “Do you know, Elizabeth? Take a guess.”

“All right, then, Dad.” Megan sounded impatient to be off the phone. “Yes, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I can't even guess.”

“Methane!” he announced triumphantly.”

Lolly choked on a swig of milk. “That
is
poo gas!”

“Ha!” Deena turned on her brother, barely able to speak through her giggles. “I was
right.”

“Okay, kids, enough.” Vera watched Megan coming into the room. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, fine.” Megan spoke brightly, but put her piece of pie back into the serving dish, which she took to the counter. “Dad is moving again. To New Jersey this time. That's all.”

“Good heavens. No moss on that man.” Vera pushed her chair back. “I'm going to get my knitting and sit on the porch.”

“I'll help you with the dishes, Megan.” Elizabeth stood to clear her plate.

“Ooh, good idea.” Lolly nodded enthusiastically.

“You will not, that's Lolly's job. Deena and Jeffrey help too. Go out on the porch and talk to Vera. She likes company.”

“I can at least do something.”

“We've got it covered. You go have fun.”

“If you're sure.” She backed up a few reluctant steps. “I can take a walk, I guess.”

“Good idea. It's beautiful out tonight. Today wasn't too hot.” She all but made shooing motions with her hands.

Elizabeth hesitated in the doorway, on the verge of asking if Jeffrey wanted to come with her, then stopped at the sight of the kids all chipping in, like something out of a perfect-family TV show, Jeffrey clearing plates, Deena scraping them and Lolly wrapping up leftovers to put away.

She turned and left the room, nostalgic for her childhood fantasies of belonging to a family like this one. Not that she hadn't spent time with her mom and grandmother—she had, but grudgingly, with an eye toward getting out to meet this or that boyfriend, sneak into this or that bar, get naked in the back of this or that car. Vera would love those stories. Next dinner Elizabeth would toss out a few and get herself recommended for exorcism.

Out on the porch Vera's sturdy rocking chair waited in the soft evening air, which smelled of mowed lawns, flowers and mountain wind. Elizabeth pushed the smooth wood gently, imagining the chair starting to rock impatiently at this time every night, anticipating its occupant's arrival.

Elizabeth would be different if she'd grown up in a house like this, warm, homey, fresh and uncomplicated. She'd be stable and peaceful like Megan, raising her children uncomplainingly while her husband was out hunting the bacon he'd eventually bring home. Maybe she'd already have married Dominique and be happily settled.

Or maybe she was doomed to be a restless soul regardless. In which case she'd turned her blame and her back on a family that didn't deserve either. And maybe on Dominique too.

She stepped off the porch, then impulsively returned through
the house to get her sketchbook. Two steps from the back door, a nearby male voice exploded in hoarse shouts and furious curses.

Elizabeth spun around, staring into the kitchen, where Megan and Lolly were still cleaning up, though the raging was clearly audible through the window.

“I…don't you hear that? Shouldn't we do something?”

Lolly chortled; Megan turned back to her sink, smiling.

“That's David.”

“Well what's…what's it about?”

Lolly cracked up again. “Believe it or not, squirrels.”

“
Squirrels?
”

“They get into his bird feeders. Drives him crazy.” Megan braced her hands on the edge of the sink, gazing out toward his yard. “He loves birds.”

“He's been through like three different feeders in the last month, all supposed to be squirrel-proof.” Lolly shoved the foil-covered pan of meat loaf into the refrigerator and closed the door. “The squirrels got into all of them.”

“Is he always so angry?”

“He's really nice when he wants to be.” Lolly moved toward the kitchen door. “Mom, Sarah and I are going to a party at Chuck's tonight, okay? His parents are home. Sarah's mom is driving us.”

“Back by ten.”

“I kno-o-w,” she sang. “Bye Elizabeth.”

“Have a good time.” She watched the teenager hurry out of the room, remembering how thrilling it had been to get away from Mom and
Babcia
and go out with friends at that age. Contrasted with how often she was home alone now, wishing for quiet time with Dominique. “She's lovely.”

Megan pursed her lips. “She's starting to realize that.”

“Ah. Yeah.” She had no idea what else to say, because the things she did at Lolly's age Megan undoubtedly didn't want to know. “Is everything really okay with your father?”